


All-In-One

by bjbookcase



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-27
Updated: 2006-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-09 22:30:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13491141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjbookcase/pseuds/bjbookcase
Summary: Welcome, friend. Grab your favorite beverage, settle in a comfy spot, and venture forth into my very tongue-in-cheek tale of J/C. Extra points awarded for figuring out the title.





	All-In-One

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2006 Secret Valentine Exchange.

“So, it wasn’t my ‘Angry Warrior’ legend that did it?” Propped on one arm, Chakotay looked down at the woman lying on the blanket beside him. Finished with their picnic lunch by the river, the couple were talking about what had transpired in their lives since being marooned here, on this planet they called New Earth.

“Don’t get me wrong, love, it was good . . . very good, but I’ve heard a lot of good double T, G, double L in my day.”

“Double T what?”

“T, T, G, L, L. Trying To Get Laid Lines.”

“Oh . . .” His frown quickly gave way to a dimpled smile. “But this one worked.”

“Yes, it worked . . . ” Kathryn smiled back at her lover. “But that’s not when I fell in love with you.”

“Then when?”

Her smile deepened and she reached up to caress his cheek. “When I saw the look on your face after I told you I’d be coming to you if I had any questions about mating behavior.”

“That long?” The expression on Chakotay’s face was priceless. “You weren’t just flirting—feeding me a T, T, G, L, L?”

“If I was, I clearly didn’t do a very good job of it.”

“You mean . . . if I had pushed . . . we would have . . . “

As fun as this was, she had to put him out of his misery. “No, love. That’s when I fell in love, but it took me awhile to figure it out. I knew there was something between us, but I just put it down to a strong, physical attraction. At that point, even the temptation of the greatest sex I might ever know wasn’t enough for me to risk either the command structure or our growing friendship.”

“You thought sex with me might be the greatest you’d ever know?”

“Down, boy,” she laughed, bracing a hand against his chest as he loomed over her. Their eyes met and her hand slipped up to the back of his neck. With gentle pressure she pulled him down to where her lips could brush against his. “I never doubted it,” she whispered.

But she didn’t protest when Chakotay insisted some added assurance was in order.

_Three months later:_

Fresh from her shower and wrapped in a light robe, Kathryn Janeway walked out onto the third floor balcony of the log cabin she and Chakotay had constructed around and over the original Starfleet shelter. The decision to build up was Chakotay’s, and while he would have prefered doing it in a more traditional fashion, fear of another storm like the one they endured a few months ago prompted the use of what technology they had. Milling the wood with a phaser and using the shuttle tractor beam to lift the logs into place made the building progress quickly.

It also resulted in a view Kathryn savored every time she stood here. She sipped her morning coffee and leaned against the sturdy wooden railing. Her bathtub nestled beneath the shade trees they’d left near the house; her garden was just a short walk further on. From there, the grassy clearing with it’s sprinkling of wild flowers led down a gentle slope to the silvery-gray river. Or at least to the sun-lit dapples that were all that could be seen of the river through the trees lining its banks. This was home now. A home she and Chakotay planned on sharing for the rest of their lives. A home filled with love, laughter . . . and children.

Which reminded her.

Careful of her sprained ankle, and using the cane Chakotay made for her, Kathryn went back into the large, airy bedroom. Limping to one of the hand-crafted night tables, she picked up the medical tricorder lying there and flipped it open. It took only a moment to scan herself and study the readings, comparing them to the baselines stored in the instrument.

Temperature . . . perfect. Hormone levels . . . well within the optimum range. Now all she needed was a willing partner. Not for the first time, Kathryn wished they hadn’t decided against using their commbadges for day to day communications. To her way of thinking, that was taking this back-to-nature thing just a little too far.

_Especially when I need him here . . . now._

Without that option, there was nothing for it but to hunt him down. Negotiating the stairs with her injury was a hassle. Besides, she was in a hurry. And hadn’t they installed the lift for just such occasions, times when one of them was incapacitated by injury, illness, age . . . pregnancy. _Too bad it isn’t a turbolift._ Though, at this point, any lift was better than no lift. Entering the small chamber, she activated the lights and controls, setting it to take her to the ground floor.

Now where had Chakotay said he’d be working this afternoon? Hadn’t he said something about plans . . . yes, that was it.

She’d find him in his work room, drawing up plans for the water wheel he was going to build. Using it together with the original shelter’s solar panels, he hoped to generate enough power for all their needs; allowing them to keep the power cells with which Voyager had provided them in reserve. He’d shown her the future construction site on their evening walk a couple of nights ago. Located on the same cascading stream that supplied their water, it was the perfect spot for a water wheel.

Spurred on by his almost giddy enthusiasm for his project, Kathryn had splashed him with cold water from the stream, declaring, “I hereby christen thee the Water Warrior, builder of all things wet.” She directed another spray of water at his feet. “And this site, the Warrior’s Water Works.”

Her efforts, of course, had precipitated a wild water fight; soaking the two of them to the skin and leaving their drenched clothing clinging to every inch of their wet bodies. Awareness of that fact led to a second christening ritual. One as old as time.

They’d returned to the house tired, wet, and muddy, and decided a bath was in order. Unfortunately, sharing a bath in their still euphoric, but somewhat fatigued, condition proved to be a rather hazardous mistake. Neither could remember just how, but in addition to an odd assortment of bumps and bruises, Chakotay ended up with a nasty goose-egg on the back of his head and Kathryn a sprained ankle. Not wanting to overtax the medkit on such minor injuries, they decided to limit their more strenuous activities for a few days and let the injuries heal naturally.

_But not all our strenuous activities._ Not when it was D-day . . . or should that be O. F.-day?

And why was this lift taking so long? You’d think it was moving in slow motion. Or, worse yet, stuck.

“Oh . . . my . . . god!”

It was stuck. Damn technology . . . just when you counted on it, it decided to crap out on you. Well, she’d be damned if she was going to let something as simple as a recalcitrant lift get the best of her. She opened the control panel and examined the wiring. No obvious problems there. She tried a little creative cross-wiring.

“Damn,” she yelped, jumping back. Sucking on her red, tingling fingertips, she gingerly eased forward for a look at the burnt-smelling mess inside the panel. “Double damn,” she growled, smacking her hand against the wall of the lift. That didn’t help the pain in her hand, but it did give her an idea.

Using the head of her cane, Kathryn began to pound on the lift walls and shout “Help! Chakotay! Help!” She stopped every so often to listen for a reply. If he didn’t hear her, she was going to be stuck in this damn lift until he noticed her absence. With her luck, that probably wouldn’t be until lunch time. _And we’ll miss our optimum opportunity._ She pounded harder.

What seemed like hours later, she thought she heard her name being called and stopped her pounding and yelling to listen.

“Kathryn?” Chakotay’s voice was coming from below her. He must have opened one of the access doors to the lift shaft.

“Your stupid lift is stuck, Chakotay. And me with it,” she hollered back.

“I can see that.”

The big ape was laughing at her. She was going to kill him . . . once they finished.

“Kathryn, did you try rerouting the controls?”

“Yeh-ess.” Did he take her for a fool?

“That explains the fried wiring.”

_Oh, shit._ She’d taken out the whole control system. But they didn’t have time for this.

“Chakotay, forget the damn wiring. I need you up here now!”

There was no reply, but moments later Kathryn heard faint thumps, bumps, and cursing in the stairwell next to the shaft. Somewhere above her, a door thudded open, and then a second. There was some more banging and curses, louder now, and suddenly something thudded against the ceiling of the lift. Seconds later, Chakotay peered anxiously down at her from the access hatch.

“Kathryn . . . sweetheart, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“Get down here.”

He didn’t argue, but grasped the edge of the hatch and swung his body down into the confined space inside the lift, nearly smacking Kathryn in the face with his knees.

“Watch it, you oaf.”

He landed with a thud beside her. “Ooof! Sorry about that.”

“Never mind, I’m fine,” she said, pushing him back against the wall of the lift. “Drop your pants.”

“Kathryn?”

She paused, her open robe already down around her waist. Oh stars, why did men have to be so dense?

“It’s O. F. time, Chakotay. Now hurry up.” The robe fell to the floor and she kicked it aside. Bending to slip off her panties, Kathryn glanced up to find Chakotay staring distractedly at her naked ass. “Now, mister,” she barked.

“Yes, right. O. F. time,” he said, but he still looked a bit bewildered as he unfastened his pants and let them drop down around his knees.

Frustration and amusement warred within her as Kathryn watched her fumbling partner. Seeing her naked, he’d “risen to the occasion,” but cluing him in would go a long way in enhancing his performance.

She stepped close and used a hand on either side of his face to tip his head down until they were eye to eye. “Optimum fertilization time,” she enunciated carefully.

The light went on and Chakotay’s eyes darkened with desire. He placed his large hands on her shoulders to steady himself and toed off his boots. A moment later, his pants joined her robe in the corner of the lift.

He reached for the waistband of his boxers, but Kathryn’s hands were already there. After divesting him of that last remaining barrier, she circled his neck with her hands, raised up on her toes—sore ankle forgotten—and slid one slender leg up over his hip. She smiled up at him, her blue eyes dancing. “A bit of help, love?”

His eager hands slide under Kathryn’s buttocks and lifted her to straddle his waist. With her legs wrapped tightly around him, she braced her hands on his shoulders and threw back her head. Inch by delicious inch, she slowly impaled herself on Chakotay’s willing weapon.

_Eight weeks later:_

Captain Kathryn Janeway lay on a biobed in Voyager’s sickbay, impatiently waiting for the EMH to complete his examination. Ambivalent about the cure and rescue that put her back in the captain’s chair, she had only one desire at the moment: escaping sickbay. It didn’t help that her one unfailing source of support sat on a nearby bed, watching the proceedings without a trace of sympathy on his smiling face. She’d just begun contemplating various means of making both Chakotay and the Doctor pay for their transgressions when the hologram spoke.

“All finished.” He touched a control and the curved arms of the diagnostic imager retracted from around her.

_Free . . . at last._ She pushed herself up on her elbows, but the Doctor’s hand on her shoulder restrained her.

“I’d prefer you remain in sickbay for the time being, Captain. It will only take a few minutes for the computer to process the results of the scans I took.”

There was something in the Doctor’s tone that gave Janeway pause, but not for long.

“Is that really necessary, Doctor?”

He just scowled, so she tried another tact.

“My ready room is only four decks up, Doctor. I can be back here in minutes.” She flashed him her most charming smile. “I really should get started on reviewing all the reports and logs filed during my absence.”

“And we all know how easy it is to pry you away from your work. Though in this case, since Commander Tuvok is waiting on my medical report before returning command to you, it really isn’t your work, is it?” The Doctor looked from her to Chakotay and back. “I suggest the two of you make yourselves comfortable. I should have those results for you in just a few minutes.” Skirmish won, the Doctor beat a hasty retreat to his office.

“Aarrggghhh!” Janeway thumped back on the biobed. One of these days, she really was going to delete that smug expression right off of his round, little, beady-eyed face. All it would take were a few simple, judiciously executed viruses. _I’ll bet B’Elanna would jump—_

“He’s our only doctor, Kathryn.”

Janeway turned her head and glared at the speaker. “I wouldn’t delete all of him, Chakotay. Just the parts that make him so smug and . . . and . . . “

“Stubborn?”

“Is there something you’re trying to imply, Commander?”

The glare ratcheted up a notch.

“Never, my love,” he declared, his brown eyes full of warmth, and then humor as he added, “But I do enjoy watching the two of you butt heads.”

“Chakotay!” Her voice was soft and imploring. “I thought we agreed to keep our relationship to ourselves for the time being.”

Chakotay glanced at the EMH busy at his desk terminal. “I doubt that he heard me. Besides,” he said, smiling back at her, “don’t you think our relationship is going to be a bit obvious when he gets your scan results?”

Janeway turned her head, flinging an arm across her forehead as she stared up at the ceiling. There was a rustle of movement and a warm hand settled on her shoulder.

“Hey . . . “

Janeway lowered her arm and stared up into the worried face of her first officer, friend, and lover. Her hand moved to cover his and she gave him a lopsided smile.

“What kind of threat do you think it will take to swear him to secrecy?”

In the end, the Doctor proved to be the least of their worries. It was the Terrible Trio that kept them on edge.

_Three weeks later:_

Chakotay looked up from the report he was reading. The woman seated at the desk in front of him was staring off into space, the report in her own hand forgotten.

“Something on your mind, Captain?” he asked.

Kathryn blinked rapidly, looking a bit startled as she came back from wherever she’d been. “I’m sorry, Commander . . . what were you saying?” One hand came up to knead the muscles between her shoulder and neck.

Smiling, Chakotay rose to his feet and circled the desk to stand behind her. Strong but gentle fingers took over massaging her neck and shoulders. She tensed at his touch and he knew Kathryn was arguing with herself over whether to let him continue. Silence was the key here, so he merely continued his ministrations until she let out a deep sigh and the muscles under his fingers relaxed. Pressing his advantage, he leaned close, his breath stirring a few wisps of auburn hair. “I was wondering what has you wool-gathering instead of concentrating on all this stimulating reading?”

He jumped back, jerking his hands away as she spun her chair around to face him. _So much for trying to relax her._

“They’re at it again, Chakotay. In the messhall . . . at lunch. I’ve been so damn hungry . . . I didn’t even notice how much food I’d put on my tray.” She lurched to her feet and began pacing.

“That damn, nosy Paris. I swear he was counting every calorie I put in my mouth. And the other two . . . I’ve seen that calculating look on B’Elanna’s face before. I’ll bet she has it figured down to the centigram on how much weight I’ve gained. While Harry. . . .”

Chakotay resisted the urge to touch her when Kathryn paused in front of him.

“Poor Harry,” she said, shaking her head. “He stares at me when he thinks I’m not looking; yet, he blushes and looks away whenever I do catch his eye. He’s like a kid who walked in on his parents having sex.”

Chakotay snorted in amusement. “More like the kid who’s had the proof thrust in front of him that his parents are having sex.”

“Chakotay . . .”

He caught her by the shoulders, forestalling another round of pacing.

“Kathryn, we knew we’d eventually have to tell the crew. Maybe it’s time.” He grinned down at her, dimples fully engaged as he trailed a hand from her slightly fuller face down over her swollen breasts to the small bulge below her waist. “The signs are there for anyone to see.”

She sighed again and he gently tugged on her shoulders, silently offering her the comfort of his arms. For the second time that day, she surprised him: stepping close to bury her face in his chest and wrap her arms around him. Smiling, he rested his chin on the top of her head and closed his own arms around her.

Time, to Chakotay, seemed to stand as still as they did. It only started again when Kathryn eventually eased back, breaking their embrace. She raised her eyes to meet his.

“How does tomorrow at the morning briefing sound?”

He nodded. Compared to a ship-side announcement, telling the senior staff was a much faster, and decidedly more efficient, means of disseminating their news. Plus, they wouldn’t be denying the Doctor the chance to gloat over keeping their secret.

“Good,” she replied. “Let’s get back to work. These reports aren’t going to read—”

Voyager shook and bucked beneath their feet. Chakotay grabbed Kathryn with one arm and braced himself against her desk with the other, struggling to keep them on their feet. Around them alarm klaxons began blaring and emergency lights pulsed red.

_“Senior staff to the bridge. We are under attack.”_

“Is it just Tuvok, or do all Vulcans insist on overstating the obvious?”

“Section thirteen-c, the _Dictates of Logic_. Now shut up, Chakotay, and help me to the bridge.”

Like a pair of drunken sailors bereft of their sea-legs, the command team reeled for the bridge amidst the continuing barrage of enemy fire.

_Less than an hour later_ :

With an economy of motion, repair teams moved about Voyager’s bridge mopping up what, fortunately, turned out to be only minimal damage. The mysterious attack ship-that disappeared as fast as it appeared-hadn’t seemed interested in taking things beyond a series of feints and dodges with a little sabre rattling thrown in for good measure. A good old-fashioned pissing contest was how Paris phrased it.

Chakotay listened to the bridge crew’s good-natured debate over that and several other theories; yet kept a watchful eye on the one crew member not joining in the conjecture. Though, in the end, Kathryn Janeway would want the actual solution to such a puzzle, she understood the tension release this type of bantering afforded her crew and rarely denied them that outlet. On the contrary, she usually contributed; often surprising her crew—and him—with the wicked bent to her humor.

But not this time. Pale and quiet, Kathryn sat in the command area and appeared to be studying the post-attack reports scrolling across the console between her chair and his. There was nothing amiss in her actions; however, Chakotay seriously doubted she was actually taking in what was on the screen in front of her. As he drew closer to her position, he could see the tight lines around her mouth. He sat down beside her and leaned in as if checking the reports for himself.

“Feeling all right?” he whispered.

She gave him a wan smile and said just as quietly, “Let’s just say I’m experiencing another sign of my condition. It’s been a rather . . . unsettling ride the last hour.”

His hand covered hers on the console, squeezing it lightly.

“Why don’t you go see how your ready room rode out the attack? I can handle things out here for the next couple of hours.”

“Oh, that was smooth, Commander.”

Nevertheless, she turned her hand under his and returned his reassuring squeeze before she pulled her hand away and stood.

“You have the bridge, Commander. I’m going to go check on my ready room.”

Behind them, the turbolift doors swooshed open and a tray-bearing Talaxian bounced onto the bridge.

“Snacks, I have snacks for a hungry, hard-working crew,” Neelix announced, his smile threatening to engulf his whiskery face. Spying the captain, he headed directly for her, talking a mile a minute.

“My dear Captain Janeway, you’re looking a bit peaked, but that’s to be expected after a enduring such an unexpected, and unprovoked I might add, attack. But never fear, I have just the thing to put the color back in your lovely cheeks. Did you know, according to the stardate, it’s almost Valentine’s Day—another of those marvelous Earth holidays I’ve been researching. All about love . . . and the color red from what I can gather. I thought it would be fun to combine that with one of the food delicacies—also from Earth—I’ve been experimenting with.” He thrust the tray at Janeway. “Try some, Captain.”

Chakotay couldn’t see Kathryn’s face, but he saw her body stiffen and her hands clench into white-knuckled fists just before she sidestepped the little alien and dashed for her ready room. He found himself staring into the stricken visage of Voyager’s chef.

_Poor guy, he looks as if he’s been slapped._

“Co . . .Commander? What did I do?”

“She turned positively green before she dashed off,” threw in a grinning Tom Paris. He cut a knowing look at Harry. “What the heck did you offer her, Neelix?”

“Lieutenant . . . “

Tom’s teasing was the last thing he—or Neelix, for that matter—needed to deal with right now. Hoping to shed some light on Kathryn’s abrupt departure, Chakotay crossed to the forlorn looking Talaxian and examined the dozen or so glass dessert bowls on his tray. Spoon-sized, red, almost translucent, heart shapes filled each dish.

“It’s only jello, Commander. Why did the captain react like that?”

Before he could respond, a shaky voice spoke over the comm, “Command . . . Commander Cha . . . kotay, report . . . report to the . . . ready room.”

His face a mask of calm, Chakotay hit his commbadge and replied, “On my way.” He paused just long enough to give Neelix’s shoulder a conciliatory clasp before hurrying to Kathryn’s inner sanctum.

As the ready room doors closed behind him, the mask fell away. “Kathryn, where are you?” He didn’t see her on either level of the room.

“In the head,” came a faint reply.

He hurried across the ready room and stepped through an open door into the captain’s small, private washroom.

Kathryn was slumped on her knees in front of the sleek metal commode, her hands and arms splayed on the rim. Her forehead rested against the front edge of the seat. Even as he took this all in, she pushed up and hung her head over the bowl; her shoulders hunching in rhythm with her heaves. Choking back his own gag reflex, Chakotay stepped to the wash basin and ran a washcloth under cold water. He wrung out the excess and turned back to Kathryn.

“It’s all right, sweetheart, I’m here,” he said, dropping to his knees beside her. One hand went to her shoulder to help support her, while the other began rubbing slow, soothing circles on her back. When the retching ceased, replaced by shaky gasps for breath, he eased her back and gently cleaned her face. “Any better?”

She nodded, unable to talk just yet.

“You gave Neelix quite a blow to his ego dashing off like that. He thought you didn’t like his jello.” His attempt at distracting her backfired.

Kathryn visibly paled, a panicked expression coming over her face.

“It moved, Chakotay.” She sucked in a deep, gasping breath. “It was bad enough when Voyager . . . when the ship was rocking and heaving . . . but food . . . that moved. . . .” She wrenched away from him, once again embracing the commode as gut-inverting heaves racked her body.

This time around, along with the freshened washcloth, Chakotay was prepared with a hypospray he’d ordered from sickbay. He would have liked to move Kathryn to the ready room couch, but held off for a few more minutes as the Doctor advised. He cradled her against his chest, watching carefully until her color began to return and the rise and fall of her chest settled into a calmer cadence.

“Feel up to moving to the couch?” he asked.

“In a minute,” she murmured. “This is all your fault you know.”

“My fault?”

“You and that damned story.”

Oh, so that was where this was going. “Because it worked?”

She pushed away from him, only to grasp the rim of the commode to steady herself. Balance secure, she turned her head and fixed him with a glare.

“Would I be in this condition—or this position—if it hadn’t.”

“I don’t seem to remember you objecting.”

“Were there any other men on the planet?”

Chakotay’s eyes narrowed. _Where the hell did that come from?_

“I’m not the one who fantasized for years about how great sex between us would be,” he shot back. Actually, he had . . . but she didn’t need to know that. Not in this unpredictable mood.

“If I’d known it was going to result in aching breasts, eating like a pig, and wanting to heave every time something around here moves, I’d have stuck with celibacy. Even my coffee tastes off anymore.”

It was the sight of Kathryn’s expression when she mentioned her coffee that did it. Despite the sudden realization her fluctuating hormones were driving this crazy conversation.

“Why are you laughing at me, you big ape?” Her fist thumped against his chest.

Chakotay grasped her by the waist, tugged her sideways onto his lap, and sat back cross-legged on the floor. His hands captured hers.

“I’m not laughing at you, love. I’m just so happy.” His face lit with a broad, dimpled smile. “We’re together, Kathryn . . . and we’re having a baby.”

A cacophony of cheering suddenly filled the washroom, startling the command duo. It was coming over the comm system.

“Kathryn, did you leave your commlink open?”

“I don’t know. I was a little preoccupied with heaving my guts out.”

Chortles and giggles replaced the cheering.

“I think we can forget about making an announcement at the morning briefing tomorrow.”

“I think you’re right,” she sighed. Her lopsided smile looked a little frayed around the edges. “Could we move to the couch now?”

Chakotay dropped a soft kiss on her forehead. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.” He got them both to their feet, then picked Kathryn up and headed for the ready room’s upper level.

A cheerful amalgam of voices still played in the background, but two voices now rang out over the rest.

_“Take all the time you need, Captain, Commander. We’ll try to keep . . . things from moving too much.”_

_“I would remind you, Lieutenant Paris, the punishment for blatant insub—”_

“Shut those fools off, would you, Chakotay,” Kathryn murmured sleepily. She snuggled against him as he settled the two of them on the couch.

“With pleasure, love. Computer, until further notice, forward all communications for either Captain Janeway or Commander Chakotay to Commander Tuvok. Authorization Chakotay, lamda, zero two, one four.”

***The End***


End file.
